Current literature is like a garden I once saw. Its proud owner
led me through a maze of smooth-trodden paths, and pointed
out a vast number of horticultural achievements. There were
sixty-seven varieties of dahlias, there were more than a hundred
kinds of roses, there were untold wonders which at last my
weary brain refused to record. Finally I escaped, exhausted,
and sought refuge on a hillside I knew, from which I could look
across the billowing green of a great rye-field, and there,
given up to the beauty of its manifold simplicity, I invited my
soul.
It is even so with our reading. When I go into one of our public
reading-rooms, and survey the serried ranks of magazines and
the long shelves full of “Recent fiction, not to be taken out
for more than five days”--nay, even when I look at the library
tables of some of my friends--my brain grows sick and I long for
my rye-field.--_The Outlook._
(1863)
=Literature in Advertising=--See ADVERTISING.
=Literature in Prisons=--See PRISON LITERATURE.
=Literature, Short-lived=--See EVANESCENT LITERATURE.
=Little Deeds of Kindness=--See CHEER, SIGNALS OF.
=Little Evils=--See DESTRUCTIVENESS.